This poem is a humble attempt to give a voice to millions of people living with autoimmune illnesses. There is so much more I wanted to say, but for now this is all I have.
That time when I felt normal, completely alive
Seems a memory distant, I’d have to take a deep dive
To recall when things were “good”, before a laundry list
Of symptoms appeared, and I started my tryst
With the medical system, seeing a motley crew
Of specialists, many kinds of tests they would do
On me over the years, prescribe medications
That grew more expensive each year, without giving an indication
Of improvement in my condition sustained
No matter what I did, my symptoms waxed and waned
I had flare-ups at times most inconvenient
They followed no schedule, I could not prevent
A flare-up when it threatened its ugly head
Hoping to improve next morning, I would go to bed
Wake up disappointed, in discomfort and pain
Hoping for a remission to follow again
Each time nervous that the disease activity
Was here to stay, at a worse new baseline I would be
*
Pesky steroids, immunosuppressants and more
Fear of infections shaking me to the core
Each common viral illness leaving its mark
With new symptoms, some subtle, some stark
Any kind of stress sending my system immune
In to overdrive, from which I would not bounce back soon
All kinds of restrictive diets I have tried
When nothing worked, myself to sleep I’ve cried
Then the pandemic came, to derange life even further for me
I worried the virus would challenge my immunity
*
Why could my body not learn
To love itself, not attack it, I yearn
For a life free of worry constant
Even though I manage well to an extent
There are times when gourmet food
Unleashes a torrent of symptoms that intrude
On my ability to live from day to day
Normally- then I have to remind myself in some way
I read somewhere that about one in five healthcare workers has left medicine since the pandemic started. This is a poem highlighting the predicament of someone who is thinking about quitting.
Who would I be if this I could not do
My sense of identity draws heavily on it too
Where would I be if not within these walls formidable
Working inside the confines of which I am comfortable
The life-sustaining machines’ hums and beeps
Those sounds would haunt me when I try to sleep
Where would I look for the rush of adrenaline
Except in handling the kind of medical emergencies I’ve seen
How else would I find despair morph into hope
How would I comfort aggrieved people, help them cope
Where would the triumph of science I celebrate
Where would I witness miracles modern medicine can create